The story of Adam and Eve is familiar to many. The couple was placed in the Garden of Eden where they lived in harmony with nature. Entrusted with caring for the garden, their actions took a pivotal turn when they ate from the forbidden tree of knowledge, resulting in the ‘Fall of Man’. While the biblical account primarily addresses spiritual consequences, various interpretations suggest it also signifies a disruption in the harmonious relationship between humanity and the natural world. As a consequence of their disobedience, Adam and Eve were expelled from Eden, beginning an interpretation of a more adversarial relationship between humans and nature, marked by labor, struggle, and hardship. 

In theological and philosophical discussions, the idea that Adam and Eve’s disobedience led to a broader corruption or disturbance in the natural order has been explored. Themes of environmental degradation and humanity’s encroachment into nature resonate deeply, finding expression not only in literature but also in cinema, often portraying dystopian futures. However, Karan Gour’s Fairy Folk flips the trope of man infiltrating nature by casting nature as the disruptor in the lives of an urban couple. A genderless woodland forcefully inserts itself into their existence, resulting in a captivating narrative that blends humor with introspection, prompting contemplation on themes of sexuality and love.

I attended the premiere of Fairy Folk in Delhi sometime in late 2022 and since then, I’ve occasionally heard about the film here and there. Its brief run in cinemas brought me great joy. Seeing an independent film explore such overtly absurd and unconventional themes receive theatrical release felt like a personal win. Most recently, the makers have opted to release the film online, using a pay-as-you-like model. You can watch it on fairyfolkthefilm.com. 

In Fairy Folk, Ritika (Rasika Dugal) and Mohit (Mukul Chadda) navigate urban life with nonchalance until a fateful encounter in a Mumbai forest changes everything. They stumble upon a mysterious being (Nikhil Desai), and despite initial unease, they bring it home after abandoning their car. Initially resembling a lifeless mannequin, Mohit starts training the creature. He teaches it to serve Ritika, entertain friends, and more, forming a deep bond with it. Over time, they realize the being embodies their unfulfilled desires, entwined with the forest’s essence.

Delighted with the progress and under the influence one night, Mohit impulsively kisses the creature before sleeping. To his astonishment, it transforms overnight into Kabir (Chandrachoor Rai), a youthful and charismatic version of Mohit. This transformation echoes the fairy tale trope of a princess kissing a frog who becomes a charming prince, with a twist in gender roles. As Kabir integrates into their lives, Mohit grows uneasy as Ritika forms a closer bond with him, both physically and emotionally. Feeling sidelined, Mohit attempts to create an improved version of Ritika, but the experiment goes awry, resulting in the creation of Hansa (Asmit Pathare), a transwoman.

Through these unconventional developments, the film raises thought-provoking questions about the impact of appearance and sexual identity on emotional relationships. It challenges whether love can transcend these superficial distinctions or if they fundamentally shape our connections.

The film’s humor is spot on. It captures the silences and in-betweens exceptionally well, creating an engaging experience for the viewer. It almost feels like you’re in the living room with the characters, sharing a drink and discussing what to do with this naked man—who neither breathes nor has a heartbeat—but Mohit and Ritika have embraced him as part of their household, seemingly unfazed by the odd arrangement. Gour happens to achieve this naturalness through improvisation, which is an interesting and meticulous choice. Given the clean editing, it is commendable that the film is entirely composed of improvised scenes. Gour certainly has a hold on his subject matter as well as his performers. 

While this story could have easily been a tale of dystopia, Gour opts for magic realism to narrate it. The everydayness, humor, and awkwardness subtly redefine traditional portrayals of human-nature interaction. At its core, the film delves into a marriage, a tumultuous relationship where ignorance often prevails over confrontation. The woodland becomes a catalyst, forcing them to confront the issues plaguing their relationship. Qualities like passion for each other and a genuine sense of care that have faded from their lives are resurrected through spontaneous and tangential discussions, reminiscent of those they had long ceased to have, thanks to this genderless creature. In the process, the film also explores masculinity and its inherent vulnerabilities.

At its essence, the narrative revolves around Adam and Eve, but with a twist: this time, it’s Adam who craves the forbidden fruit, not Eve. This exploration delves into male fantasies and their dominant influence over all aspects of the story. In a nutshell, the journey of Fairy Folk is intriguing and undoubtedly demanding. The film would certainly be remembered as a masterfully crafted piece in the indie cinema space, by makers who ensured it reached the audience it deserves. It is a light-strange film that promises a nice time—a film to be savored with friends while unraveling the delightful absurdity portrayed on screen.

Review Courtesy of Anjani Chadha

Feature Image Credit to Karan Gour via fairyfolkthefilm.com